Through Fire and Forge
It was Thursday, One o'clock in the morning. The light and warmth of the sun had vanished, leaving the cruelness of the cold to haunt the small village of Galesbury. This village was based in London, and was completely normal in every way. It had a Village Mayor, for example. The Mayors daughter, was cruel, and terrible to behold, although she was shockingly beautiful. It had a butcher, the man a sadistic butcher of anything that angered him, but could thankfully hold his temper in with humans.
It also held a homeless, poor girl. Her name was Anabelle Goodheart, and her surname reflected her nature. She had little, and what she did have aside from basic supplies was donated. Not to the mayor, because of his Succubus like daughter. Not to the Butcher, because of the chance he would flay her alive and use her carcass as the next days sale. No, it was donated to an abandoned house. She had so far left flowers, money, A DVD somebody thought was broken and had discarded and a watch. She had no idea why the house was there, or why she was attracted to it.
Anabelle shivered in the cold, for it was blistering cold, at least Five degrees. She hugged herself, fighting the useless battle to keep her body temperature in her body as she staggered through the city. Galesbury was dead at this time. Dead, aside from the random stray man or woman. Anabelle wept as she tried to find some spot to try and keep herself warm. All the public buildings were closed and locked. Nobody would let her into their house, as the town looked after themselves. She was blindly running, her eyes too full of her tears to see properly. She tripped on an unevenly placed pavement slab and feel, bruising her knees. Her overly long, dark, hair covered her face as more tears streamed out of her blue eyes. Her wasted from struggled to get up, not because of a huge lack of strength, but because she just wanted to die on the spot. Yet she couldn't find the will to commit suicide.
She felt a rough hand grab her and lift her. She looked up, hoping against hope, that somebody cared about her. Eye eyes stared straight into Isabella's, The cold daughter of the Mayor herself. Without breaking a stride, Isabella punched Anabelle in the face, before dropping her with a Kick to the stomach.
"You again?" She sneered, her rich clothing gleaming in the moonlight, her lustrous figure defined.
"Pathetic beggar. Why are you here again? Why don't I just take you to our Butcher? I get paid more, he gets exquisite meat and you die. Whats the issue?"
A tiny thought, just a small thought, crossed Anabelle's mind. The fiend was right, it was a perfect solution! However, that was tiny thought. And it was crushed by the thought that Isabella would take great pleasure from her victory.
Instead, she replied by throwing a kick at Isabella. Isabella screamed as the kick caught her in the torso. Probably more in distress from the dirt on her clothes than actual pain, Anabelle thought with anger. With a quick kick up, Annabelle righted herself and ran. She raced through the town, chased by Isabella, who was screaming in fanatical rage at the dirt on her clothes. Isabella might have a better physique and fitness, but Anabelle knew the village top to bottom, including various sewer entrances and exits. She quickly headed towards the sewer grate, when suddenly Isabella leapt forward and tackled her down. They were alone, in a back ally. Isabella clawed at her, ripping her rags apart.
"You thing! Those clothes cost me more than your life is worth!" Isabella hissed in wanton rage. She tore at Anabelles cheeks, at her torso.
Then, she drew out a Pistol.
"Daddy wants my to stay safe" Isabella giggled manically. She raised the pistol till it pointed at Anabelles head, and, as if even time mocked her, Anabelle could do nothing but watch as the trigger was pulled.
Suddenly, a flame red whip slapped the gun. Isabella screamed and jerked up, the bullet intended for Anabelles head simply flew wasted in the sky. Isabella screamed genuine fear, but Anabelle was feeling faint. Her vision was blurring rapidly, as she lost all strength. She felt strong hands gently lift her up and over her shoulder. The mans body warmth was exceptional!
"Be still, mortal. Your bleeding to death" A deep, harsh voice growled into her ear.
But there was little point, Anabelle was unconscious.
Demacia! (Garen, The Might of Demacia)